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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28382163">A Way With the Stranger</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Virareve/pseuds/Virareve'>Virareve</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire &amp; Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Candle porn, F/M, I suppose we could call this a New Years themed fic, Post-Canon, Prompt: Candelight, Reunion, a Christmas New Years fic??, an extended Christmas fic?, go wash your minds with soap you heathen, lots of LITERAL candles, unbetaed, written off the cuff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 01:00:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,664</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28382163</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Virareve/pseuds/Virareve</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After two moons without word from Jaime, the New Year is nearly upon Westeros and with it the promise of spring, but first the island must bid goodbye to winter and celebrate the living and the dead.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>JB Festive Festival Exchange Stocking Stuffers 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Way With the Stranger</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightReaderEnigma/gifts">NightReaderEnigma</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>NightReaderEngima, you've written some favorite canon-set fics, and when I saw you posted the prompt "candlelight" for the exchange, it reminded me of a cherished childhood memory I have running up the Spanish steps late on Christmas Eve, surrounded by candles, and wandering into Trinity church where my parents and I sat in the back of the empty pews and listened to the nuns and brothers practice their hymns. Such reminder of that cherished experience had me whipping this out in a flash. I do so hope you enjoy. :)<br/>-Vira</p><p> </p><p>Happy new year, everyone!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was snowing outside. A cold east wind had come in just days before and brought one final bout of cold that left Tarth in a sheen of frost. Hopefully, it would be the last as Brienne had recently received word from the citadel that spring was soon upon them. </p><p>The sept was frigid. On this cold, cold night on the Day of the Stranger, the final day of Sevenmas and the eve to the New Year, when everyone stayed home with their family to fend off death, Brienne broke away from custom to be alone. She knelt among the pews at the center of the seven altars and shivered. </p><p>The stone was ice beneath her breeches and seeped into her bones bringing back aches that she had not felt since the Long Night. </p><p>The septon was already gone, planning to pay a visit to the lonely and dying tonight as was custom on the eve of the New Year. It was tradition for the septon to make these visits and make sure that each child of the Father would be passed to the Stranger with love. This day was the only day out of the year reserved for honoring death and the current living and no rites passed on this day. No other celebrations could be made on this day. The Day of the Stranger existed to honor the often forgotten or ignored god and remind believers of their own mortality. </p><p>“Queen Sansa,” she said aloud, from her place on the ground, “Princess Arya, Lord Gendry, Ser Podrick, Prince Jon, Ser Peck.” She continued, naming all those she hoped the Stranger would allow to see out the new year. “King Tommen. Ser Jaime.” She stumbled.</p><p>It had been two moons since Jaime had bid her farewell after the Long Night, and no word from him had been received. The mainland was something of a mystery to her island, new rumors reaching her every day such that it was impossible to tell fact from fiction. Often she felt tempted to drop everything and sail over to King’s Landing to find out what state of affairs the city was in, but she was the Evenstar now. She could not abandon her people. When she found them, they'd not even begun to recover after the ravaging of their island and the death of her father. Brienne owed it to them to give them her best. She might not have been the lady they’d desired once upon a time, but she could be the leader who’d see them to a better and brighter day. She’d seen her share of the world, had saved the princess and seen her a queen, slayed monsters, and commanded armies, and she could do this by her people. And yet, she had not expected her island to exist in such quiet and ignorance of the world outside their shores.</p><p>Jaime had promised her to send word after he’d gone to King’s Landing to try to save his only living son. He’d promised to meet her on Tarth. He had sent nothing. If he or the young King was dead, she had naught a clue. Brienne resolved herself for the final part of her prayers. She pushed up from the hard floor and made her way to the Stranger’s altar where hundreds of lit candles surrounded the faceless marble statue.</p><p>“Sansa,” she repeated, pulling a new lemon-scented candle from her bag and lighting it on a candle in front of her. She placed it in front of the altar. “Princess Arya,” she removed a spiced candle, watching it crackle merrily before setting it down beside the lemon one. “Lord Gendry.“ She brought out a candle whose tallow and twine was mixed with copper to elicit a bright blue flame. “Podrick'' was a candle of deep hued purple and scented with honey. “ Prince Jon,” a candle with a wooden wick. “Peck'' a candle of vanilla that caught easily and burned merrily besides its growing brethren. She laid out more candles of various scents, colors and builds. There was a bright orange one, with wax mixed with zest from the fruit that let out a delightful scent, and another of deep evergreen that smelled of the trees that decorated Evenfall during Sevenmas. For little Tommen, she laid out a candle mixed with petals of a lily and scented with gardenia. Then was left with one last candle in her hand. It was a dark, deep red. Brienne held it to Tommen’s little candle, the wick lighting easily, and her lip trembled at the scent: winter roses. </p><p>With that smell came memories of Jaime, of tumbling with him in the sheets, making love beside the fire, of whispering their greatest desires in the darkness created by huddling under their furs.</p><p>The winter rose Jaime had given her before they parted was crushed now. It was not easy to bring such a bloom across fields and mountains without damage, but the petals had stayed firmly intact and her little smashed bloom occupied a small corner of her beside table and a firm place in her heart. “Please,” she begged, tears slipping from her eyes, “<em> Stranger </em>, please keep him safe. I don’t need him to return to me if it means he will not be dead.”</p><p>The candles she brought burned merrily, oblivious to the ache of her heart. They blurred to shapeless splotches of yellow, orange, and Gendry’s one flame of bright aquamarine as her eyes filled with tears. </p><p>For how long she cried, she did not know. Brienne rarely allowed herself to consort with tears while focusing on the rebuilding of her home. She remained there, stewing in her pain when suddenly there was a bang. Brienne jumped as the sept’s doors swung open, hand flying to Oathkeeper at her side, but no one came in. No one but the squall that sailed through the wide room and snuffed out all her candles. </p><p>“No!” she yelped and went around picking up her candles and trying to relight all of them only to groan in annoyance as Jaime’s candle continued to go out. “You must light,” she begged. The candle seemed to refuse. The wind was still coming through the open doors, putting out each attempt she made, so Brienne got up to shut it, Jaime’s candle in hand. It was rare for such strong gusts to come in, but the sept overlooked the harbor and it was not uncommon for a strong sea breeze to make its rounds. Brienne looked out the open doors as she gripped the front doors’ iron handles. She expected the harbor town to be its usual calm, sleeping port, but instead she was greeted with an unexpected sight. </p><p>A new ship in port, late and lonely in the night. She could make out the hustle and bustle of lamps as workers went to their duties unloading the ship.  Brienne gasped, when she made out the unmistakable image on the sails, gold lions on a canvas of red. Without a thought, Jaime’s candle rolled from her hand into the light snow that covered the sept’s steps and Brienne flew down them. She raced down the steep, sharp cliffside roads of the harbor town, snow flying in the wake of her bustling boots.</p><p>“Brienne!”</p><p>Brienne froze to see Jaime riding up to her on his destrier.</p><p>“Brienne,” he said again, voice soft as he slid easily off his horse and carefully stepped through the snow to her side. </p><p>The man before her was her same fair haired lion and yet not. He looked far healthier than the man who had nearly starved with her up in the North while were besieged by endless wights. No longer was he skin and bones, he was filled out and smiling at her so intently Brienne wondered if he were a Sevenmas-induced hallucination.</p><p>“Ser Jaime...is that really you?”</p><p>Instead of answering her, he stepped up and without warning, pressed his lips to hers. Brienne gasped, her lips parting, and his parted in response, moving softly against hers. Brienne’s hands bunched on his fine tunic, relishing in the physicality of him here. It was so easy to respond, to move her lips in a movement they knew so well. </p><p>“Yes,” he finally said, pulling away, “and if you would allow it, I’d never leave your side again.”</p><p>“I should like that,” she murmured, peppering his mouth in kisses. “I should like that very much.” </p><p>Jaime’s arms wrapped tight around her, making her think he was just as struck by the presence of her as she was by him. She clutched tighter to him as the familiar heat rolled in her stomach. </p><p>Abruptly he broke back, making her growl with irritation.</p><p>“Marry me,” he said, his breath ragged. “I cannot imagine going any longer and not calling you wife. I’ve brought a Septon and we can be married now.”</p><p>Brienne shook her head, “It's the Day of the Stranger,” she told him, wondering if he had lost count of his days while at sea. “We will not be allowed to marry just yet.”</p><p>“No,” Jaime corrected her, face filling up with a grin. “Did you not hear the bells? It’s the new year, Brienne and the day of the Stranger is past.”</p><p>It was then Brienne became cognizant of the loud chiming of the bells coming from the sept, of small children that began to fill the street, waving loud noisemakers, while adults came out their doors to hug their neighbors and give well wishes for the new year. </p><p>“So it is,” she smiled, running her fingers against the line of Jaime’s jaw. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. “Yes.”</p><p>Jaime’s eyes snapped open, looking hopeful. “Yes?”</p><p>“Yes,” Brienne grinned, “I will marry you. Right now if you truly wish it so.”</p><p>“I do,” he grinned and pulled her in to meet his lips once more. </p><p>There was a scent of winter roses in the air.</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>if the title sounds like "away in a manger" you wouldn't be wrong</p><p>unfortunately, funky play on words will probably not prevent me from lighting aflame if I once again stepped inside a church XD</p></blockquote></div></div>
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